


All That I Am

by beadedslipper



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Because I'm a sucker for these two losers rescuing each other, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post Ep 2x2, Pre-Slash, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 18:53:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6716986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beadedslipper/pseuds/beadedslipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Harold hole up in a motel immediately following John’s dashing rescue at the train station.  Harold needs medical attention and John needs a safe space to plan their return to the city.  Some of Harold’s words are bothering John and they end up sharing and discovering some wonderful truths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That I Am

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is a popular premise. It’s easily one of my favorite moments in the show. So here’s another Harold and John get it together after John rescues Harold from Root. I hope you guys like it anyway.

“I really didn’t intend for you to come after me Mr. Reese.”

Those words nagged at John long after Harold uttered them, in that breathlessly shocked voice in the train station.

It wasn’t only that Harold had planned on John leaving him behind, though that was a problem in and of itself that he fully intended to see corrected as soon as Finch was in a headspace to do so.  Not that Harold had assumed that John would be content with such a life or that in doing so Harold had shown a remarkable lack of concern for his own well-being.  It was more than that.

Harold fiddled quietly with a fresh burner phone, sitting on the corner of the cheap bed in the motel room they had rented, likely installing government level firewalls.  His fingers made the buttons quietly clack in the otherwise silent space.  Harold wasn’t talking much, which John would need to address soon, but for the moment it gave him the chance to puzzle over what was bothering him.  John’s mind swept back over the last harrowing twenty-four hours and suddenly he knew what was bothering him.

“He lied.” John murmured quietly to himself.

Harold, with that hyperawareness that was so common after something traumatic, still heard him.  “I beg your pardon Mr. Reese?”

John looked up to see Harold watching him, the skin between his arched brows slightly furrowed.  “In the train station you said you weren’t expecting a rescue but I know that can’t be true.”

Harold said nothing, those piercing eyes watching him closely behind his freshly-cleaned eyeglasses.  His hands continued their work on the phone even though Harold’s attention was apparently on John.

John went on to clarify.  “I know you didn’t _plan_ on a rescue.  You specifically planned for me to ignore anything that might happen to you and just continue on.  By the way, I’m a little hurt that you ever thought I would agree to that Harold, though that’s not the point right now. What I’m trying to say is that I think you were lying when you said you weren’t expecting me.”

Harold’s face was carefully neutral.  “And why do you say that Mr. Reese?”

“Because you left me a message you knew I could follow.  Part of you must have known I would never leave you behind.  That I would come for you, no matter what.”

Harold sighed, hands stopping their fiddling.  Finally he said, almost too quiet to hear, “Hoped is perhaps more accurate than ‘known’.”

“Finch – “

He held up a hand, stopping John in his tracks.  “You must understand Mr. Reese, I truly did not mean for you to come after me.  You were meant to continue to protect people that needed your protection.”  Harold raised his hand again when John opened his mouth to protest.  “ _Not to mention_ , I wrote the contingency plan with the assumption that I would, in fact, be dead and therefore be in no need of rescue.  However, I was unprepared for the realities of kidnap.”

Harold abandoned the phone to rub absently at his injured palm.  “She wasn’t cruel, not intentionally, not unless she knew it would benefit her.  Rather, she was pragmatic in the extreme.  She chose the most efficient path even if that path involved violence.

I was terrified.  She drugged me, but even if she hadn’t, all it would have taken was for her to put me in a room with the Machine and one innocent person.  If she had held a gun to that one person’s head, I know I would have had no choice but to give her access, even as I knew I was condemning the entire world with it.  Oh, I would have tried whatever I could to delay her or block her, but eventually I would have to choose.  And I would never choose the Machine over someone’s life.  She knew this.  It was only a matter of time and of location.

I knew you would have no way of finding me.  I knew you could not possibly be coming after me even if, for some unfathomable reason, you wanted to.  Yet, I’ve seen you in action Mr. Reese.  Your ability to adapt to the situation and find a solution is second only to your extreme empathy and desire to protect.  Watching you, and also knowing how hard you have worked to get to know me – yes – some small part of me hoped that you had come to care for me enough to follow us.  That somehow, you would save me from that terrible situation like you have saved so many others.”

John shivered at the understated adoration in Harold’s words.  He knew he wasn’t worthy, that Harold’s perception of him had to be slightly distorted due to recent events and would surely soon return to normal.  And yet, to hear those words of praise, to hear the surety in Harold’s dear, soothing voice that John would come for him, kindled the dwindling flame of hope in John’s chest.

Even as John’s world was rocked on its axis, Harold’s confession continued, words pouring out of his mouth as if, now that he was safe, to be honest with John was his new imperative.

“Part of me wishes you hadn’t come.”

Before John could roar his denial, his outrage that Harold valued himself so little, Harold added, almost as if he was talking to himself.

“The idea of you putting yourself in harm’s way on my behalf is unpalatable to say the least.  The hope that you would come was almost outweighed by the fear that when you did she would make you bleed.”

Harold met his eyes sharply.  “If she had you and threatened you I would have turned over the machine in an instant.  No games, no stalling for time, no trying to change her mind.  And I wouldn’t have felt an ounce of regret.”  His voice was sharp, his own protectiveness shining through in his words.

John absorbed all of this, adding the things Harold was saying to his mental file on Finch and hoping that he was parsing all the things that weren’t being said correctly because he was about to take a huge risk.

“I just have one question.” Harold was listening intently, curious.  “Do you really think it’s unfathomable that I would want to protect you?”  John stood slowly and walked over to Harold until he was standing close.  Wanting to spare Harold the strain on his neck, wanting to spare Harold any pain whatsoever, he dropped to his knees.  Harold’s eyes were wide and rapt.  “Or do you mean to say that you think it’s unfathomable that I would come to care for you?”

Harold twitched, his eyes darting away, but John’s hand was there to catch his cheek and guide him back.

“John – “ Harold breathed, voice strained and eyes fraught.

John smiled sardonically.  “I know I don’t deserve this, least of all from you.  And I wouldn’t ever ask for anything more, not when you’ve already given me so much.  I’m not a greedy person Finch.  I don’t need much, or at least I didn’t.  But then you went and gave me something else and I can’t help myself – “ John broke off, fear and doubt making a valiant effort at resurgence.  It wasn’t too late to back out of this, not yet, but almost.

“What did I give you John?”

“Hope.” John barely got out.  He cleared his throat.  “You gave me hope Harold.” John shook his head.  “God, that sounds stupid doesn’t it?”

“Hush.” Harold’s finger, warm and steady on his lips and John looked up in surprise.  “Tell me what you hope for John.  Any – anything I can give you – it’s yours.”

John swallowed.  “You – you can’t mean that.  I just saved your life – “

“Mr. Reese.” Harold’s voice was firm.  “I believe it is safe to say that neither of us are here from a place of gratitude.  Not entirely.  Perhaps that is the wrong phrasing.  Yes.  Neither of us are looking to repay a debt.  I can safely say that I don’t feel you owe me anything and I don’t think it would be a poor assumption to say you feel the same.”

John nodded, unable to speak from the hope that was clogging his throat.

“Then please, John, please, tell me.”  Harold’s fingers reached up to twine with John’s where they still rested on his cheek.

John swallowed.  “I hope,” He breathed deeply through his nose and then let it out, trying to find the words.  “I couldn’t let you go Harold.  I told the Machine I wouldn’t do it without you.  I forced it to help me find you.  So, I’m really hoping that there’s even a chance that you care about me as much as I care about you.”

Harold sighed like someone who had been able to take a full breath after being under water. 

“Well, then.” Harold said, and a sweet smile crept across his lips.  He leaned forward and, before John could second guess it, was pressing a tender kiss into John’s lips. 

John gasped, the knowledge that Harold was kissing him almost too good to be true.  Harold didn’t hesitate, darting forward to stroke John’s tongue with his own.  His fingers tightened on Harold’s cheek and he gave himself over to the sensations, letting Harold guide them where he would, only moving closer to press them together chest to chest.  Harold made a small pleased noise, his other hand moving to travel from John’s shoulder up into his hair and back again, taking a momentary detour to stroke along John’s defined jaw.

John obligingly tilted his head further, allowing Harold to stay completely upright.  Whatever Harold needed, whatever he wanted, John would do.

John’s knees were digging into the rough carpet and though the pain didn’t even register on the scale of relevant sensations, eventually this position would strain Harold’s neck.  John surged gently upwards, guiding Harold into a controlled fall back onto the mattress and following him, not allowing their lips to part for a single moment.

They wound up tangled on the bed, legs and arms wrapped around one another, their faces inches apart, the only concessions to space made in allowance for Harold’s injuries.  Every once in a while one of them would close the scant distance to press another kiss to a cheek or an eyelid or, again, lips.

John couldn’t tear his eyes away from Harold, reveling in the closeness, in the freedom to stare at Harold as much as he wanted and to puzzle out the improbable set of circumstances that had somehow, wonderfully, brought them here.

Because he was a glutton for punishment, John said, “This could be problematic.  You know they train this out of us for a reason.  Inter-office romance can turn deadly in our line of work.”

“We are an international secret agent who not even the CIA has been able to kill, even though they’ve tried twice, and a reclusive billionaire who, if I do say so myself, has more than a few spare brain cells to rub together.  We’ll find a way.  You won’t get rid of me now Mr. Reese.”

Somehow that was exactly what he needed to hear.

“I love you Harold.” John murmured.

Harold spoke for both of them when he replied, “All that I am is yours.”


End file.
